


First Impressions

by DellaVie



Series: Mirror, Mirror [2]
Category: Stargate SG-1, Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 04:04:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5319785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DellaVie/pseuds/DellaVie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of side-stories that take place in the Mirror 'verse, detailing Dean's first interactions with members of the SGC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> For those who haven't read "The Stages of Grief", all you need to know is that this takes place in the SG universe, and Dean has a doppelganger named James Page (but Jim's fine, really).

_Summary: At the end of the day, Doctor Weir would look back and think that she really should have taken the time to read his file beforehand._

* * *

 

During her brief tenure as the head of Stargate Command, at the request of President Henry Hayes, Dr. Elizabeth Weir had come to know a great deal of the people employed therein. Initially her presence had been a hard sell. The trust and regard with which the base held for Major General George Hammond, coupled with the fact she had no military rank – and yes, even that she was a woman – made if difficult for her appointment to be regarded with the respect it deserved. They never said anything to her face, they were soldiers after all. But Weir knew it like she knew when talks were going south in the middle-east and she needed to change track. She was an outsider, plain and simple, thrust to the top of the ladder without having earned it, at least in their eyes. In her eyes she’d earned it and then some. But she was not so arrogant that she expected them to just fall in line, and her experience had taught her that men of action wouldn’t respond to sitting around and having a chat for the sake of social relations when there were things they would be much better suited to doing. So she did the best she could, which was her job. She attended briefings and consulted the Pentagon and kept Vice President Kinsey apprised of the goings-on. And in her spare moments she became acquainted with the personnel files of those employed at the base; from the Staff Sergeants in supply to the SG team leaders who ran missions and everyone in between. Whenever she had an opportunity to interact with them, she would. And while it was a laborious process, she had somehow managed to meet a third of the base in the month and a half that she had been stationed there.

Yet despite her best efforts there was one team she had yet to meet, and that was SG-14. It wasn’t as though they were going out of their way to avoid her, or she them, it just happened to be a ridiculous amount of happenstance that prevented such a meeting from occurring. When she was going to assign them a patrol offworld, she found out that they – all four of them – had put in for leave at the same time. Seeing as they were well-within their right to do so (and some of them a little overdue), she handed the mission over to SG-6. When they had returned – from Vegas, apparently – she had planned to issue them a check-up on P2X-381 but she was suddenly called to Washington and Colonel O’Neill had run the briefing in her stead.

Which meant that the first time she finally got to lay eyes on SG-14 was when the word had hit the idiomatic fan...

=.=

Dr. Weir was in her office talking with Colonel O’Neill when the gateroom signalled an unscheduled wormhole, and the IDC indicated SG-14. Their conversation all-but forgotten, Weir dashed straight out to the control room to see what was happening. Seconds after the iris opened two members all but collapsed onto the ramp as several staff blasts missed their heads by inches.

‘Close the iris!’ One of them shouted, and he rolled his teammate over to check for injuries as Control scrambled to do just that.

They were in bad shape. The one that had spoken was leaning over his partner on one knee; the other leg splayed out to his side at an uncomfortable angle. The burn slash that ran across his calf and the side of his thigh indicated that he hadn’t been too lucky in avoiding all the staff blasts. His cap was stained red and, though it was hard to make out from this distance, it seemed like the side of his dark face was covered in a viscous substance that regrettably looked to be blood. Still he was in nowhere near as bad a shape as his companion.

Weir could only stare as she took in the sight of the young soldier lying unmoving on the ramp. She vaguely heard someone calling for a doctor, but she feared that by the time they arrived it would be too late. His standard jungle camo jacket and tac vest had been removed, leaving a plain black tee that did little to hide the gaping wound in his chest. The conscious officer was holding a blood-soaked bandage over his right lung and doing his best to rouse his comrade to consciousness.

Before Weir could glimpse any more details, the medical team appeared and efficiently swept the fallen soldier onto a gurney and out of the room while his teammate spewed out a rushed description of what had occurred. When he tried to follow he was held at bay by another medical officer, 2nd Lieutenant Dr. Hiscox, who, after a few quiet words and a glance at his leg, had two officers lift the man from the floor and shoulder him out of the room as well.

All of this happened in under a minute, and Weir had to blink several times to process it. ‘What happened?’ she asked Sergeant Harriman, her eyes fixed on the dark red stain that smeared the gateroom floor.

‘It is unknown at this time, ma’am,’ Walter replied. ‘SG-14 was not due to return for another four days, and their last check-in reported nothing amiss.’

She turned to Harriman. ‘When was this?’

She waited as the sergeant rolled away from the monitor that controlled the gate to another. After a few quick key taps he replied, ‘0845 this morning, ma’am.’

A quick glance at her watch told her it wasn’t even five hours ago. She opened her mouth to speak; ‘I-’ was as far as she got before she noticed someone else talking. She turned to Colonel O’Neill who, too, had cut his sentence short and motioned her to continue. ‘Ladies first.’

Weir nodded and resumed; ‘Sergeant, I would like you to dial P....’

‘P2X-381,’ Harriman supplied.

‘P2X-381,’ She echoed, ‘And see if you can establish contact with the rest of our team. Colonel...’ She turned to Jack and paused.

‘Organise a response team?’ He suggested, and Weir nodded. O’Neill in turn nodded to a waiting corporal in the control room. The man turned and left without a word.

‘Keep me informed, gentleman.’ Weir reminded as she left for the infirmary.

She had passed two corridors before she realised Colonel O’Neill was following her. ‘Weren’t you organising a response team?’

‘Yes, I am.’ Jack replied. ‘It just helps to know what kind of response I might need to make.’

Though the words were placid enough, Weir caught the undertones of the conversation and halted in her step. ‘Is there something you’d like to say, Colonel?’

Jack, who had made it another two steps before he realised Weir wasn’t following, spun around and closed the gap. ‘Of course not, Doctor.’

With little to call him on, Weir resumed walking. This had been going on for a while now, the subtle subversions of orders and the casual passing of authority between herself and the higher-ranking members of the SGC. Normally it was something she took in stride, but the sudden tension of an unknown situation had shifted her slightly out of her comfort zone. This wasn’t the first situation in which her actions would directly affect the lives of those involved, but there was a very big difference between negotiations for medicine and trade as opposed to military combat decisions. And while she was not infallible, she wanted to try as hard as she could to make sure she made the right choices. This meant getting as much information as possible.

‘I understand what you’re trying to do.’ O’Neill spoke quietly beside her.

Weir spared him a glance as they made their way towards the elevators, and he gave her a sad but knowing smile in response. Some of the tension eased off her shoulders at that, and she found the focus to return to the matter at hand.

‘Do you know their names?’ She asked. Though she hadn’t yet gotten around meeting them, tales of SG-14's previous missions had been passed through the commissary.

‘Sergeant Jake Talley had the injured leg.’ O’Neill supplied.

‘And the other?’

Jack frowned. ‘Hard to say. It’s either Captain Page or Colonel Winchester. I’m going with Winchester, though. If history is anything to go by...’

Weir tried to remember what she could of the names O’Neill mentioned. Talley was Army, an average soldier with an average service record up until 2005, when his performance greatly increased to the point where he broke the military’s records for strength and stamina. An investigation took place to determine the cause, and when narcotics were ruled out he was conveniently offered a position at the SGC where his heightened skills would be put to good use (and tested for less conventional causes). Ultimately no reason was uncovered and it was decided that Talley’s newfound abilities were a result of living up to his potential and nothing more.

Captain Page she remembered for the completely opposite reason. His file was one of the flimsiest compilations of paperwork to exist in the normally organised system. His personal details were blank save for his name (‘ _James Page, but Jim is fine, really_ ’) and hometown, which was listed as ‘ _OZ (over the rainbow)_ ’ in seemingly joyful, sarcastic penmanship. His educational and military training were blank, and yet he had somehow gained employment into the Air Force at the rank of Captain. And to top it all off, his half-page medical summary was actually 17 pages of incomprehensible (to her, at least) jargon which was proudly stamped ‘CLASSIFIED’ and citing several other reports which apparently were too great to include in his file. It had confounded her at the time, but pressing matters had let the information fall by the wayside until now.

The doors to the elevator opened and Weir stepped in with a frown. She couldn’t even remember reading Winchester’s file.

Her thoughts were dampened when the elevator stopped on level 25 and two other people stepped in. Major Samantha Carter and Teal'c held Colonel O’Neill’s attention as he summarised the recent events, only pausing to side-step as a technician slipped out on Level 24. They each took in the information quietly before organising themselves. Carter was going to pick up Dr. Jackson from level 18 and together they would get up-to-date on P2X-381, whilst Teal'c would ride the lifts back down to level 25, suit up and meet them for the briefing.

With little to contribute to the conversation, Weir kept herself disengaged by staring at the lights indicating their slow ascent up to the 21st floor. When the doors opened, she swiftly made her way across the floor to the medical bay, where Sergeant Talley was lying patiently on a bed while Dr. Hiscox stitched his leg. His head was bandaged and his arms were covered in dry blood, but the rest of him was the same as when Weir had seen him in the gateroom. He glanced at her approach but didn’t seem to recognise her.

‘Dr. Weir, Sergeant Talley. Sergeant Talley, Dr. Elizabeth Weir.’ Jack dispensed the formalities casually, gesturing between the two with a haphazard wave of his hand.

Though he didn’t know her visually, the name evidently rang enough bells that he sat up a little straighter. The action caused him to wince.

‘Stop moving,’ Dr. Hiscox ordered.

‘Please,’ Weir added with as much warmth as she could muster, and let out a sigh as Talley relaxed against the pillows again.

‘Concussion?’ O’Neill asked, nodding at Talley’s head.

‘Yeah, only a mild one, though.’

‘And I suppose this is only a mild scratch, too.’ Dr. Hiscox gestured to the calf he was stitching.

Talley shrugged which in turn caused him to wince again. Dr. Hiscox saw this and, unapologetically, reminded him to ‘Stop moving.’

Talley shot Hiscox a glare before turning to Weir and O’Neill and his demeanour changed. ‘We were attacked. Gu’auld. Not sure why exactly...’ His brown eyes started to mist over for a second, as though he were searching for answers in a fog. In a way, he was. ‘...Colonel thinks they were looking for another world to conquer, seeing as we keep reclaiming theirs. Captain Page and I got the people to the caves while Winchester and Stanson did recon.’

‘Let me guess,’ O’Neill interrupted, ‘Winchester had a _brilliant idea_.’

Talley gave him a knowing look. ‘He didn’t want to wait until they managed a foothold so we tracked down the rings. Planted some C4, waited until they activated and blew them up. Must have sent some sort of feedback to the ship because they didn’t send anymore down after that.’

Weir raised an eyebrow at O’Neill, who shrugged. ‘What? I said it was brilliant.’

She turned her attention back to Talley. ‘And then?’

‘And then...’ He blinked, ‘I’m not sure. Something happened. They left, I think.’

‘You think?’ O’Neill echoed.

Talleys’ eyes started to lose focus. ‘I can’t remember, sir. Sorry.’

Jack waved it off. ‘Just tell us what you can.’

‘Major Stanson radioed in to say that they couldn’t see any signs of the mothership, or the Jaffa that had landed.’ Talley frowned in the knowledge something wasn’t quite right.

‘So you’re saying they laid siege to P2X-381, fully prepared to bring the "wrath of gods", and Winchester pops out of the bushes, yells "boo" and they run away?’ Jacks’ eyebrows rose in disbelief.

‘I wasn’t there,’ Talley gave a half-shrug.

‘Good, because that would be seriously unfair.’

Dr. Hiscox finished up the stitches and stood. ‘Make it quick,’ he told the two standing, ‘he needs rest.’

He then handed Talley a damp towel to wipe his hands before moving away.

‘You were saying?’ O’Neill prompted.

Talley took a few seconds to recall what they were talking about, and longer still to continue. ‘They were hiding, we knew. Colonel Winchester and Major Stanson couldn’t find them, and we could see no signs of them from our hold in the caves. And those entrances had a good vantage point.

‘The Colonel then said we should watch over the villagers; that he and Stanson were going to see if they could reach the gate and call for backup.’ Talley finished cleaning the dried blood off his hands and looked around for somewhere to put the soiled towel. In the end he cradled it in his lap.

‘So you stayed in the caves?’ Weir prompted.

Talley shook his head slightly. ‘No ma’am. Captain Page said they – Winchester and Stanson – were being followed and we should book it to the gate to make sure they had backup when they were ambushed.’

Weir frowned. ‘How did Captain Page know that?’

Talley tilted his head. ‘He said Dean – Colonel Winchester – figured it out.’

Weir was confused. ‘But how would Captain Page know that, if he was with you?’

Talley didn’t seem to know the answer to that one. Or, more accurately, _how_ to answer that one. He looked over to Colonel O’Neill, who offered, ‘Great minds think alike?’

Though it did little to clarify Weir’s confusion, Talley and O’Neill seemed to be satisfied with the answer and moved on.

‘We got to the gate, just in time too. There were about eight or so Jaffa closing in, but we managed to overcome them. Major Stanson went to the DHD and then there was some sort of noise. It was loud, I mean really loud.’ As though reliving the noise, Talley’s focus started to slide. ‘And then Stanson was on the ground. The Colonel pushed him out of the way of some sort of bomb, but it got him right in the chest... Jim dialled Earth and I... Something on my head...’ Talley shifted his hand to the back of his head, indicating where he’d been hit. ‘...And then the rest is kinda blurry.’

Weir smiled reassuringly. ‘Just tell us what you can.’

Talley started to blink excessively, as though he were trying to clear away his confusion. ‘...The ships had returned. Jim and Paul picked up the Colonel-’ Talley paused to smile, ‘-he was swearing like you wouldn’t believe... Uhh, Paul, I mean. Major Stanson.’ Talley sobered at the two expectant faces and focused back on topic;

‘We were under fire. Major Stanson was helping the Colonel...’ Talley squinted at the far wall, lost in the memory. ‘...We were under fire. There was... Save the villagers? I think that’s what he was... And Page... Page...’ Talley scrunched his face up; trying to recall what happened was clearly not doing his head any favours.

Dr. Hiscox, who was never far off, reappeared at that moment with some sedative. ‘I think that’s enough for now.’

‘No wait!’ Talley batted at the doctor’s arm but it was already too late, the injection had been administered. He fought off its hold, trying to pass on one last piece of information. ‘They were gone, and we had... They were gone...’ His eyes fluttered shut as his arm slowly fell to the side. Hiscox gently placed it back on the bed before turning to the Weir.

‘I hope you got all you needed, because he won’t be coming around for a while.’ Dr. Hiscox plucked the bloodied towel from Sergeant Talley’s other hand and, habitually, folded it.

Weir conceded the want for more intel in favour of the soldier’s health. ‘Thank you, Doctor.’

O’Neill tilted his head in the direction of the operating rooms. ‘Any news on Winchester?’

Hiscox shook his head. ‘Not yet, I’m afraid. Beckett and Brightman haven’t so much as blinked yet.’

‘Keep us posted,’ Weir instructed and left with O’Neill when Hiscox nodded his compliance.

They stopped by the O.R. on their way to the elevator, looking on through the glass as Doctors Beckett and Brightman worked. With little to glean or do at the sight, Weir sent up a silent prayer for the young man before continuing back to the elevators.

=.=

‘Colonel, I don’t like the idea of you walking into a potentially deadly situation. Anything could be waiting for you on the other side of the stargate.’

‘That’s a risk we take every time we step through the thing.’ Colonel O’Neill replied. ‘But I agree. Can’t really mount a rescue if we’re gunned down as soon as we step through.’

Weir turned to him. ‘I assume, then, that you have a plan?’

Jack shifted his weight unnecessarily. ‘Plan is such a... definitive word. I would say I have more of a cam.’

‘A Cam?’

‘Cam, cami-’ He held up a hand to explain. Whatever a ‘cami’ was, it was slightly bigger than a baseball. ‘-It’s... It’ll work.’ Jack nodded and placed his hands back in his pockets. When Weir continued to stare at him, he offered a reassuring smile. ‘Trust me.’

=.=

Weir joined the assembled briefing and gestured for Dr. Daniel Jackson to commence. Aside from SG-1, the table also seated Colonel Barnes from SG-6, Colonel Sumner of SG-21 and Lieutenant Colonel Reynolds of SG-3. It wasn’t much by the way of new information; the same old statistics and history of P2X-381, an update on Goa’uld movements and possible strategies and a report from Colonel O’Neill on what Sergeant Talley recalled was shared to ensure everyone was on equal footing.

Then there was the problem: Considering the planet was under attack, the gate was effectively out of commission until its 38-minute window closed. With no way to determine when that would be, they had no way of knowing when to dial in. At the moment Sergeant Harriman was manning the controls and constantly dialling the planet in an attempt to get lucky.

Major Carter spoke up at this point; describing an algorithm she had been working on that would allow the gate to dial the same number much more efficiently and increasing their odds of making a connection. ‘It would effectively be like hitting the redial button instead of punching in the numbers individually.’

When it came to the part where they discussed how they planned to infiltrate P2X-381, Jack finally revealed what a ‘cami’ was by laying it down on the table. Weir raised an eyebrow and, for the first time during the meeting, spoke up;

‘You know, you could have just said it was a camcorder from the start.’

Jack was all faux innocence. ‘Oh, didn’t I?’

‘That’s your plan for subverting a possible Jaffa contingent at the gate?’ Though his words suggested doubt, Colonel Reynolds seemed to be giving the idea genuine consideration.

‘Page is always telling me to KISS it. What could be simpler than a camcorder on a pole?’ O’Neill shrugged.

‘Unless that camcorder plays rock music, I doubt that’s what he was talking about.’ Colonel Barnes added. It seemed to be some sort of in-joke that Weir was not privy to, as it garnered a chuckle from all the Colonels present, as well as a smile from Major Carter and Dr. Jackson. Teal'c merely tilted his head in deference.

‘So our plan of attack is dependent on whether the Goa’uld are arrogant enough to overlook a small, innocuous recording device.’ Reynolds summated, and this time you could hear the disagreement in his tone.

‘Teal'c?’ O’Neill turned to the silent authority on Jaffa.

‘The Jaffa are not familiar with Earth technology, however there are numerous technological creations from other civilisations to incite caution.’

Jack tapped the camcorder. ‘Do you think it’s worth a shot?’

‘If one were to consider the amount of risk involved, it is not without merit.’

‘That’s a glowing Jaffa seal of approval if ever I’ve heard one.’ Jack turned to Weir and waited.

‘And it’s certainly cheaper than potentially losing a malp or UAV.’ Carter added.

Caught up in the conversation, it took a second for Elizabeth to realise that they were waiting for permission. Slowly, the others assembled began to turn their attention to her as well, as though remembering she was present.

‘You’re more than welcome to try out your _cami_ ,’ Weir allowed, ‘but should it fail, you will need to devise an alternate approach before the mission is given a go.’

‘Should we assemble our teams just in case?’ Sumner asked, although it wasn’t really a question. It was a politely-formed recommendation that Weir might have missed had she not spoken with Sumner before.

‘Please.’ Weir nodded, her expression forced politesse.

‘Ma’am.’ Sumner nodded, and then he stood and left. Colonels Barnes and Reynolds followed suit.

SG-1 nodded as well, standing as she did. Carter was the first to leave, in a hurry to finish her redialling algorithm. Teal'c and Dr. Jackson followed at a much more sedate pace. Jack reached over the table and retrieved his secret weapon.

‘Well, let’s test this baby out. Anyone got a pole? And perhaps some duct tape? Anyone?’

                                                                                     =.=

Jack looked down at the melting remains of his metal pole with a frown. ‘I thought you said they would be cautious.’

‘Is it not cautious to remove potentially harmful objects?’

‘Really, remove? Is that the word you’re going with?’ Jack waved the misshapen pole for effect.

SG-1, 3, 6 and 21 were assembled in the gateroom, ready to move out. Dr. Weir watched from the control room above. Colonel O’Neill had fastened the camcorder to a three-foot metal pole that may have served a prior life as a table leg in the commissary. The camcorder was directly connected to a monitor up in control where all the footage would be recorded. They then had to wait for Carter’s algorithm to be implemented. Twenty-three minutes later the gate signalled a connection and the backlash spilled into the room as the wormhole activated.

Jack wound the excess cabling around the metal as he and Teal'c approached the gate. Standing off to the side, Jack turned the camera on and slowly reached his appropriated malp through the event horizon.

‘Wait!’ Sergeant Harriman’s voice echoed through the speakers.

Jacks’ arms froze in place, but his head turned to the control room.

‘We’re getting some sort of fluctuation in the gate. The energy readings are different than normal.’ Harriman explained.

‘I’ll go check it out, sir.’ Carter offered, unclipping her P90 to and handing it to Jackson as she rushed upstairs.

With the camcorder already through the gate, Jack didn’t know if he should withdraw it or not given the announcement. So he resolved to just stand there holding it above his head. He wasn’t going to lie; this was going to get tiring soon.

After a few minutes of fidgetless patience, Major Carter’s voice rang through the speakers. ‘It appears there’s some sort of transmission being sent through the gate.’

‘What does it say?’ Jack asked, his left arm slowly losing feeling.

‘It doesn’t say anything. There’s a disturbance on the radio waves as well, but no discernible content. It’s as though someone has put their hand on the talk button but isn’t saying anything.’

Jack took that in. ‘Does any of that mean that I shouldn’t finish what I was doing?’ He tilted his head to the pole for emphasis.

‘Not that I can tell, sir. It’s just... This is different.’

‘Noted, Major.’ Jack replied and, with a huff, continued feeding the pole through the event horizon.

When he was down to his last eleven inches of metal, Jack turned back up to the control room. ‘Anything?’

Six seconds of footage was all they got. In that time they could make out up to a dozen Jaffa surrounding the gate, all eyeing it suspiciously. One of them caught sight of the camcorder, shouted, ‘Kree!’ and in unison they engaged their staffs and fired.

When Major Carter announced that the feed had cut out, Colonel O’Neill pulled the molten remains of his pole back through the gate.

Given what had transpired, Weir called for the mission to be scrubbed. ‘Shut it down,’ She ordered Harriman, and threw an apologetic look at O’Neill as the SG teams began to file out of the gateroom.

‘With all due respect, Ma’am, I don’t believe shutting the gate would be the best course at this juncture.’ Major Carter said. ‘While we may not be able to send anyone through, with the wormhole engaged neither can they. It would also give us the opportunity to try and analyse the energy readings we’re getting.’

‘Very well. Keep me apprised.’ Weir conceded, before leaving Carter to her work.

O’Neill caught Carter’s eye through the window and threw up his hands in inquiry. Carter merely shrugged before settling down at the console to work.

=.=

Dr. Weir had just enough time to acquire the personnel files of SG-14 when there was a knock on the door. ‘Come in.’ She said, casting aside Page and Talleys’ files in favour of the two she didn’t remember.

Sergeant Harriman stuck his head in the doorway. ‘Ma’am, there’s something you might like to see.’

Weir hopped to her feet and followed Harriman out the door, her previous task all but forgotten. When she reached the control room, she found Carter and Harriman looking at a monitor that showed the footage from the camcorder. Except...

‘Why aren’t they shooting?’ Weir asked.

Major Carter looked at her in confusion for a second before her eyes lit up with understanding. ‘This footage isn’t from the camcorder, ma’am.’

Weir focused on the screen intently and noticed that the angle was different, as though this came from directly above the stargate as opposed to the side from which Colonel O’Neill had placed his cami. ‘What? Where else could it come from?’

‘This,’ Carter waved to the screen, ‘is the transmission that we were unable to identify.’

‘So you’re saying someone sent us exactly what we were trying to find?’

‘In essence,’ Carter said. ‘I think Major Stanson and Captain Page somehow MacGyvered a workable telemetry system for us to use.’

‘How?’

Carter shrugged. ‘Without seeing what it is, I honestly have no idea.’

She stared expectantly at Weir, who looked back and forth between the major and the screen.

‘Ma’am?’ She prompted, and suddenly Elizabeth understood. This was exactly the tactical advantage Colonel O’Neill had suggested for their mission, and now they had it back.

‘Inform Colonel O’Neill you have a go,’ Dr Weir said, and Carter ran off to do just that.

Weir shared a smile with Harriman at the good news, before returning to her office. She was intercepted on the way by Private Collins, who informed her that Doctors Beckett and Brightman had finished in the O.R. Readjusting her course she followed the PFC to Level 21, who directed her to the Chief Medical Officer’s office.

Until recently the office belonged to Dr. Janet Fraiser, but her recent demise in the line of duty had seen the room vacant and the base in need of a new Chief Medical Officer. Dr. Carson Beckett had reluctantly taken the position on a temporary basis, having been coerced into it by Weir after meeting him at one of her husband’s medical conferences. Though disinclined to working in a military environment, Weir eventually persuaded him with the knowledge he would be helping others, and at the same time be in the best position to research a wide variety of rare treatments and medicines that would help the world at large. When Beckett pressed her on the latter, she simply smiled and slid a confidentiality agreement across the table. With a sour face he signed the document, uttering a few choice words in his Scottish brogue that Weir had to later look up to make sure there was no lasting malice between them (there wasn’t). Despite the manner in which he came to be here, Beckett took to the job like a professional, saving all his quibbles for Weir whenever saw her.

He had refused to set up shop in the CMO’s office – citing that his appointment was _temporary_ – and left no trace of personal effects therein. That was why, when Weir opened the door, she saw the bare bones of a desk; a chair on either side, a bookshelf filled with medical encyclopaedia and a set of filing cabinets. Dr. Beckett was sitting on one of the chairs, so she took the other one and smiled when he looked up. ‘Carson-’

‘Three months ago I woulda said it’s a bloody miracle that boy’s alive.’ Beckett overrode her greeting. ‘But working here has made me re-evaluate my position on the matter.’

‘That’s... hopeful?’ Weir said, at a loss for words.

‘It’s astonishing, is what it is.’ Beckett replied, clearly still reeling. ‘Him and that brother of his – I just... Not to mention that lad in the medical bay.’

‘Sergeant Talley?’ Weir deduced. ‘Has something happened to him?’

Beckett caught his concern and waved it away. ‘Nah, he’s fine. Better than, in fact. The swelling in his brain has decreased immensely, and the lacerations to his leg are healing rapidly, for a human that is. Be surprised if he’s in ‘ere longer’n a week. As it is, I don’t think his leg’ll even scar.’

The words ‘for a human’ rang through her mind sarcastically, and part of her latched onto them, as though she were missing something. ‘That’s great. What about Colonel Winchester?’

Beckett handed over the man in question’s file, which Weir politely accepted. She didn’t bother to decipher it – her PhD. wasn’t in medicine, after all.

‘From the looks of it, he suffered some sort of weapon to his right lung, entering near his sternum and piercing straight through to his scapula.’ Beckett used himself as an example, gesturing to the parts in question as he spoke. ‘The damage to the flesh and organs is consistent of when we’ve seen from staff blasts, but this one seems to have a smaller radius.’

Weir looked up at that. ‘A new type of weapon?’

‘Or a smaller staff. It’s not really my area of expertise.’ Beckett apologised. ‘His right lung was completely compromised as well as some surrounding tissues, muscles and bones. We removed the dead tissue and did our best to clean the wound before stitching him up.’

Something wasn’t right with that. She thought back to a story Simon had once told her from his days in the E.R. ‘You didn’t remove the lung? Won’t that be a problem?’

Carson ran a hand through his hair. ‘Aye, I wanted to, but Dr. Brightman advised against it.’

‘Why would she do that?’

Beckett nodded to the file in her hands. ‘There’s a note in his file. About a year ago he took a bullet to the liver. His brother gave him a transplant which altered his physiology. As a result Dr. Fraiser recommended that no excisions be made to Colonel Winchester without consulting him or his brother first.’

Though the medical terminology was dense, Weir still managed to locate the notation Beckett talked about. ‘And his brother is a doctor, I’m assuming?’

Beckett looked at her as though she were joking. When he realised she wasn’t, he said, ‘His brother is Captain Page, Dr. Weir.’

Weir frowned at that. Shouldering aside the notion that they had different names (half-brothers, obviously), Weir could see how her suggestion that Captain Page was a doctor might seem silly, given there was a lack of medical training in his sparse file. Yet it was the gravitas that Beckett added to the statement that let Weir to believe she was again missing something important. ‘Altered how?’ She asked instead.

It needn’t have mattered though, because at that Beckett regarded Weir with understanding. ‘You don’ know who they are, do you?’

‘Medical shorthand is not my forte,’ Weir confessed.

‘Even if’t was, ye’d have a hard time reading his file. Took a look at it myself, it’s a whole lot of unnecessarily confusing terms to throw people off.’

‘Why?’ Weir prodded.

Beckett’s blue eyes pierced hers for an immeasurable amount of time. ‘He’s not human, Dr. Weir.’

Well that explained a lot, actually. The sparse personal details, the obfuscatory medical summary, how he could survive a liver transplant, let alone alter the physiology...

‘So you’re saying that Captain Page is an alien, but Colonel Winchester isn’t? And yet they’re brothers?’

‘Aye, that’s the scuttlebutt around here, except for the alien part. I had to find that out from Sergeant Talley after the fact. I don’t think it's common knowledge, truth be told.’ Beckett frowned. ‘Actually, I’m not sure if I shoulda told you that – perhaps it falls under doctor-patient confidentiality.’

He looked stricken with the idea that he had broken one of his vows. Weir was quick to reassure him. ‘I won’t tell anyone.’ Beckett nodded his appreciation, and she continued. ‘So he’s fine then? Winchester, I mean.’

‘Boy’s a far cry from fine at the moment. But he’s stable, which is the best we could hope for.’

Weir handed the papers back to Beckett and stood. ‘That’s all I needed to hear. Thanks, Carson.’

He shook his head. ‘I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. I’m going to have grey hair before I’m forty at this rate. This is only temporary, Dr. Weir, I hope you remember that!’

Dr. Weir turned away so he wouldn’t see her smile as she left the office.

=.=

They met up less than fifteen minutes later in the commissary. Jack had his head under the tablecloth when Carter all but bounced up to him. ‘Colonel, I’ve figured out... Sir?’

O’Neill’s head made contact with the table, unlevelling the surface and causing the condiment shakers to topple. ‘Ow!’ O’Neill muttered, before pulling his head out from underneath. His arms were still hidden under the table. ‘Sorry, Major. You were saying?’

She set the upended salt and pepper aright as she rushed to explain. ‘The message we were receiving over the radio, sir. It really was quite ingenious. I’ve been trying to figure out how they managed to get it to work because I... Sir?’

O’Neill, whose head had been tilting back underneath the table as she spoke, looked up at her. ‘Hmm? Sorry Carter, I’m going to need this in English.’

‘Stanson and Page, Sir. I don’t know how they managed, but they sent us visual.’

Jack’s wandering attention was solely on her now. ‘We have visual? How?’

‘The radio. More specifically, radio waves. My best guess is that they-’

Seeing as his hands were still under the table, Jack cut her off by shaking his head. ‘Right, right – forget I asked that. What’s the visual of?’

‘It’s the gate, Sir. We can see the DHD in frame, and the guards look to be in the same formation from your cami experiment.’ She paused before adding, ‘...And I believe it’s in real time.’

At that declaration, Carter expected O’Neill to be on his feet and right behind her as she left the commissary. She made it to the door before she realised he was still sitting at the table.

‘You go, I’ll be right behind you.’ Jack encouraged. With little else to say, Carter left with a frown.

As soon as she was gone, Jack ducked back under the table and tried again to manoeuvre his makeshift table leg into a stable position. He had duct-taped the remains of his ‘cami’-pole to a long, narrow, vase-like artefact he had swiped from Jackson’s office, which he was using to bridge the gap lost when he sent the table leg through the wormhole. A little jiggling here, a shifting of the base there, and Jack was satisfied that he had successfully repaired the once-broken table.

He hopped to his feet and jogged off to catch up with Carter.

=.=

Major Carter was proven right when she surmised that the footage was in real-time. This was proven by Jack, who walked up to the stargate with a rock (also swiped from Daniel’s lab) and threw it into the wormhole.

Up in the control room, the rock was seen landing two feet to the right of a watchful Jaffa, who reacted with unnecessary vigilance to its appearance. That is to say, he let out a manly cry and ducked for cover. He wasn’t so quick to blast this as the cami though, apparently recognising a piece of stone when he saw one.

Not taking any chances this time, Jack got everyone organised with an actual plan so that they would be ready when the moment came. Said moment was after the 38 minutes were up and the gate shut down, by which point O’Neill had run his plan by Weir (who approved), located Barnes, Reynolds and Sumner to scramble their teams, and stood patiently in the gateroom with his team, a mobile monitor on wheels, and Lieutenant Carrington.

1st Lieutenant Hayden Carrington was a US Ranger and one of the top five marksmen currently employed in the SGC. (Of the other four one was on leave, one had broken his arm last week, one was currently in the operating room and the other was on the planet they were about to travel to. Given the nature of their employment, O’Neill felt lucky that he managed to locate him at all.) Carrington was briefed by O’Neill in the lift, and absorbed all that was said as he rushed to the armoury and acquired an M24 and rounds. O’Neill had picked up a handful as well, ‘Just in case’. Now they stood waiting in the gate room as control redialled P2X-381, Carrington shook his hands loose and let his mind steady.

Twelve minutes later the gate had reached its limit and the wormhole dissipated. However the chevrons remained alight, which Jack took that as a good sign. Looking over to Carter, he saw her nod hopefully and cross two of the fingers bracing her P90. With her brains working the problem, Jack never considered it to be anything but a sure thing. He was proven right seconds later when the wormhole re-established, spilling the backlash into the gate-room.

With a smile Carter immediately turned to the monitor and brought up the live feed. Several Jaffa were stationed around the gate, and O’Neill pointed out more still deftly hidden in the tree-line farther away. Carrington nodded and set himself up at the base of the wormhole. Jack wheeled the monitor up the ramp and placed the screen on the ground next to him.

Step one: Take out the Jaffa surrounding the gate.

His first shot was wide by two feet, but it allowed Carrington to recalculate his position in relation to what he was using in lieu of eyes. His second shot hit its target.

SG-3 and 21 quietly entered as Carrington methodically terminated the remaining Jaffa standing guard by the DHD.

Step two: Take out the Jaffa hiding in the forest.

This was slightly harder as they remained still even when their comrades fell. If Jack hadn’t pointed them out, Carrington would have missed some of them.

Still with their positions revealed the lieutenant managed to incapacitate, if not exterminate them. But only the ones they could see. The screen never changed angles, and it was fair to assume that there were several more waiting out of sight. But that was okay, because Jack had factored that into step three.

Step Three: Establish Cover.

Lieutenant Carrington quickly removed himself off the ramp as Major Carter wheeled the screen away, giving Colonel Sumner the space to lead SG-21 up to the gate. Two soldiers fanned out on either side of him, each equipped with masks and gas. Following Sumner's lead, they tossed their smokescreen through the wormhole and, after receiving confirmation from control, affixed their masks and crossed through.

While SG-21 secured the area around the gate, O'Neill quickly intercepted Carrington as he made his way out of the gateroom. "I'll take care of that for you," He said, nodding to the M24 in the Lieutenants' hands.

"Sir." Carrington said as he handed over the rifle. Now he knew why the colonel had grabbed the extra rounds.

SG-6 hurried into the room as Jack slung the M24 over his shoulder. "Little late to the party aren't you?" He called to Colonel Barnes.

"No need to call our parents just yet," Barnes smirked. "Besides, we brought presents."

They sure had. Each member of SG-6 was loaded up with enough armaments to constitute one hell of an arsenal, designed to take down any aerial attack vessels they might come across.

They took their place besides SG-3 on the ramp, waiting for a response from SG-21 that the area was secure. The silence stretched on for a good ten minutes before Jack turned up to the control room. "Anything?"

"We seem to be having some trouble establishing contact." Weir informed them as Harriman pointed at something on their screens. Jack turned looked around for their monitor, which was left unattended by the back wall. He hurried over and spun it to face him just as Weir's voice echoed through the room. "SG-21 has secured the gate. The remaining teams can move out."

Jack tore his eyes off a misty Sumner giving the hand-signals for all clear and turned to Carter. "We need to find out what's interfering with the radios."

"I think it's whatever SG-14 used to send us telemetry." Carter theorised. "Once we turn it off, the radios should work."

"Well then, you heard the lady – move out."

 

=.= **Daniel’s Pet Rock** =.=

"Fascinating."

"What is?"

"This tablet. I've got one just like it back in my office. The writing seems to be in an indecipherable language – this could be the missing clue to translating it!"

Dr. Jackson looked excited at the prospect for all of thirty seconds until he drew his attention from the rock in his hands to his assembled team. They all watched him expectantly. Jack in particular had an inscrutable look on his face.

"Obviously I'm concerned for SG-14's welfare, not to mention the lives of the people on this planet." Daniel defended. 'But do you see what this could mean? Jack, you know how important the first discovery was. Finding this second one..."

Daniel trailed off. The look on Jack's face was not the long-suffering sigh of someone who had listened to Daniel's endless ramblings, it was one that-

"This is the same tablet, isn't it?" Daniel felt foolish for not noticing sooner.

"I needed a rock." Jack replied, before turning to Teal'c and Carter. "How’s it going up there?"

Once they had crossed the event horizon, SG-21 immediately set up a perimeter around the gate, incapacitating three more guards and setting up their positions to defend the area. SG-6 headed for the caves in which the survivors were reportedly hiding, chaperoned by SG-3 who, unladen with artillery, scouted the surrounding area as they moved.

SG-1 was the last team through, and Carter immediately turned her attention to the recording device once she stepped onto the planet. With Teal'c holding her up, Carter investigated the system Stanson and Page had rigged while Daniel and Jack wandered around below.

‘It’s remarkable,’ Carter enthused, tracing wires that ran from a mutilated radio to someone's unauthorised cell phone, and finally to underneath the centre chevron. Flipping out her switchblade, she slowly pried the covering open far enough to glimpse what was inside.

And frowned.

She had expected to see wires connecting to some sort of crystal or something that served as an interface for the gate technology. Instead she was confronted with a standard radio battery covered in a web of sticky, pale pink, fine mesh-like, organic substance that... well, if she had to guess she would say it resembled...

‘Flubber?’

Jack looked up. ‘What now?’

‘Nothing, sir. I was just...’ She shone her flashlight in the crevice, as though the extra slithers of light would somehow explain everything.

‘Is there a problem disconnecting the radio?’ Colonel O’Neill called up to her.

‘It appears to be connected to some sort of organic interface.’ Carter replied. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’

‘Is that a no, then?’

Sam traced the connections from the radio to the wires and unknown substance situated on top of the chevron’s control crystal with her flashlight. ‘I don’t know, sir. It seems a simple construct. In theory I should be able to...’ She switched the radio off and disconnected the wires before holding it aloft for O’Neill to see.

Jack tapped his own in response. ‘Ground Control to Major Tom?’

_‘This is Major Tom to Ground Control.’_

‘Winchester?’ Jack replied automatically before correcting himself, ‘No, Page. All teams check in.’

 _‘SG-14, stepping through the door.’_ Captain Page replied, though Jack now noticed that his voice sounded a little sluggish.

Colonel Barnes’ smile could be heard over the radio _‘SG-6, floating in a most peculiar way,’_

_‘SG-3, sitting in a tin can.’_

_‘SG-21, checking in.’_ Colonel Sumner’s no-nonsense tone answered. Then, in the same voice, added, _‘With our protein pills and helmets on.’_

Jacks’ eyebrows shot up at the remark, but before he could reply a distinct feminine voice cut him off;

 _‘That’s good to know, Colonel Sumner.’_ Weir. Of course, the gate was still connected so she could hear everything. _‘We will maintain contact on this end for another twenty minutes, at which point we will have to check in with our other away teams.’_

‘Noted.’ Jack looked to Carter, who in turn spared a glance at the DHD and shrugged. This was Stargate Command’s second dialling into P2X-381 since their initial connection, and it had been agreed that they would ‘cut the call’ short in case the goa’uld were trying to dial at the end of each period. So far they hadn’t been able to beat Carter’s Redialling Algorithm, but they did not know who would be the quicker draw when it was DHD against a mothership.

A mothership which had yet to resurface since the four SG teams had stumbled through the gate an hour and a half ago. Jack didn’t like it. He thumbed his radio and cast another wary glance around. ‘Anyone else get the feeling that it’s a little too quiet?’

=.=

Colonel O'Neills' words seemed to echo Barnes' thoughts perfectly as his team made their way through the forest to the cliffside. Despite their caution they had yet to see any sign of life be it hostile, friendly or even animal.

' _Veewy qwiet,_ ' the radio echoed and, until Barnes' mind caught up, he actually believed that Elmer Fudd had intercepted their transmission. _Page then_ , his mind supplied. He welcomed the brevity that that both Jim and Colonel Winchester managed to bring to any situation, particularly now because the sense that something was very off here was rapidly growing.

After a quick check with Reynolds, Barnes replied, 'Nothing on our end.'

The well-trodden path in front of them gradually shifted from upraised roots and leaves to dirt and rocks as a jutting crag wall could be made out through the trees. The path turned to gravel as they reached the base of the mountain and SG-6 stopped while SG-3 scoped out the narrow path up the cliffside.

_'What's your ETA to the caves?'_

Colonel Reynolds kept his eyes on the sky as he answered Colonel O'Neill. 'We've just reached the base. Another ten minutes and we should make it to the entrance.'

 _'I can see you.'_ Stanson spoke up for the first time. _'That's a lot of cavalry.'_

'That's how we roll,' Barnes replied, his eyes following the path some eight hundred metres to the cave entrance. He could just make the outline of Stanson half-hidden in the shadows near the entrance.

 _'Scouts are here?'_ Page slurred. _'Awesome. I'll have a double-bacon cheeseburger and some funyuns. Coke on the rocks, hold the coke, with a dash of Ireland.'_

Barnes noticed the frowns of SG-3 and the knowing glances of his team mates. He shared a smirk with his lowest ranking officer, Lieutenant Peter Tall, who nodded and thumbed the radio;

'Sorry, we only have quinoa-kale salad and a nice açai refresher. Perhaps I can interest you in some dried mango instead, sir?'

Page wasn't as quick to reply as he normally would have been, and it dinged Barnes curiosity.

_'…I know where you live, Shorty. I'ma burn your house… down.'_

'That's okay, I'm prepared for that.' Tall deadpanned. 'Always.'

_'…Dishonour on you. Dishonour on your cow…'_

_'No sign of activity.'_ Colonel Sumner cut Page off, and Barnes wasn't sure if it was a question or a statement.

'Not here, either.' Reynolds agreed. 'Stanson, what happened to the goa'uld?'

According to O'Neill, Talley reported that they were gone, but it was always nice to have a second confirmation.

Stanson either didn't understand, or was off in his own little world because he replied; _'You know, this isn't a bad place to settle down. Peaceful.'_

 _'N'animals. 'Afta be vegan.'_ Page murmured, and he sounded like he was getting worse. _He's injured._ Barnes kicked himself for not realising it sooner.

'This sounding wrong to anyone else?' Sergeant White asked the assemblage at the bottom of the cliff.

'Double-time. Something's amiss.' Colonel Reynolds looked at Barnes who nodded in response. Reynolds then took his team and sped up the hill leaving SG-6 to cover the rear.

 _'Stanson, are you touched in the head?'_ Sumner asked, obviously taking SG-14's ramblings at face value. Though to be fair, in a team that is comprised of both Page and Winchester, it wasn't that much of a leap to make.

 _' **He's** not…'_ Page chuckled wryly, and this time Barnes heard him wince.

O'Neill must have said something to Sumner off the radio, because there was no immediate rebuttal at Pages' words. In fact the line stayed quiet for a good ten seconds before Stanson broke the silence;

_'Think about it; no mortgage to worry about, no intense family gatherings; no big brother breathing down your neck…'_

_'No television either.'_ O'Neill countered. _'I don't think I could live out here without channel three.'_

 _'Finally… some'un whogetsit.'_ Page's words were heaving sighs with each exhale, and the line went oddly quiet after that.

By this time Barnes was less than 100 metres from the entrance, and he and his team booked it the last leg of the journey. Well, as fast as they could carrying their armaments.

The opening was about the size of a double-garage, with only a slight overhang to protect from the elements. Inside the cavern opened up to space about forty odd people – give or take – and beyond that Barnes could make out two tunnels leading further into the mountain. SG-14 had set up a makeshift camp; their flashlights were swapped to lanterns and placed evenly about the space. Major Stanson was sitting on a rock with his radio in his hands and Captain Page was on the ground next to him using his pack for a pillow. Page's face was strained in pain and it wasn't hard to see why. The right side of his head, from his hairline to his nose to his ear, was grotesquely disfigured. It was like someone had ripped off his scalp and pulled out part of his brain. Captain Alex Baker was hovering nearby, looking at a loss. As the mission's M.O., it made sense that he would be trying to provide some sort of medical assistance, but he either didn't know where to start, or—Captain Page and Major Stanson were waving him off. _What the fuck? How is he still alive?_

'…Need you to disconnect the radio above the stargate.' Stanson was saying, though Barnes didn't know what good it would do telling them that when they were at the cave; He should be on the radio speaking to SG-1.

 _'We already have,'_ Major Carter replied. _'It was interfering with our radio transmissions.'_

'Oh, thank fu…' Page sighed, and promptly passed out. Stanson dropped a camo jacket on his head, though Barnes wasn't sure where it came from as they were both still wearing theirs.

Carter's voice continued on the radio, asking about the specifics into what Barnes assumed was the telemetry they received, and Barnes turned to Reynolds instead. 'Am I missing something?'

'Major Stanson thinks they've lost one of their radios.' Reynolds explained. His tone held a little awe as he stared at Page's unmoving head. 'Couldn't account for it after they split with Talley and Winchester.'

'So the enemy could have been listening in the whole time?' Barnes was not impressed. 'Would have been nice to know.'

'Nothing for certain. They're keeping up the pretence just in case. Carter, O-Neill and Madsen have swapped over to channel three and everyone else is staying on two.' Barnes wondered how the missing SG teams knew, but he suspected that it had something to do with the nonsense dialogue between Stanson and O'Neill.

'Tall, you're on three,' Barnes instructed. 'The rest – establish cover.'

SG-6 moved about, setting up their equipment and a perimeter around their foothold. As they set to work, Barnes realised something.

'If they are listening, then they know we're here.' Barnes struggled to remember if anything else was compromised on the radio since they stepped through the gate.

'But they don't know we know that they know.' Stanson replied, and under the jacket Page groaned.

'My head hurts!'

Captain Baker immediately tried to see his would-be patient but was waved off by Stanson; 'It's the thinking that's doing it.'

Page's leg twitched out and kicked Stanson in the shin. Unperturbed, Stanson unscrewed the cap off his canteen and sipped some water before pouring a healthy dollop on Page's blanketed face.

'Where are the goa'uld?' Reynolds asked.

Stanson shrugged, and relayed the information over the microphone for the absent teams. 'We don't know what happened to the goa'uld. They've been quiet since our run-in at the gate. Any news on Talley?'

 _'Concussion, but Hiscox thinks he'll be fine.'_ O'Neill answered. _'Winchester's stable. They're keeping him under observation.'_

Page grunted acknowledgement at this, and Stanson looked relieved.

 _'How are the villagers holding up?'_ O'Neill asked, and Barnes looked around the empty space with a frown. Perhaps they had retreated into the tunnels?

Page coughed. 'This is awkward.'

The radio was already at Stanson's mouth, and he hesitated before answering. 'They're gone.'

'Did the goa'uld take them?' Reynolds cut in.

'We're not sure. We had to double-back for the Wonder Twins.' Page sat up and pulled the jacket off his head. 'By the time we got back they were gone. No evidence they had ever been here at all.'

Barnes, like most of the men present, couldn't help but gape. Page's head was completely healed. He guessed the rumours about Page's lineage were true after all.

'How…?' Baker spluttered, his eyes wide with incomprehension.

Page tossed the jacket at him. 'It's a magic jacket.'

'Didn't do the Colonel much good,' Stanson said.

'Course not,' Page replied. 'He took it off.'

Though he was still flabbergasted, Barnes found it strange that O'Neill hadn't commented on the news. After all he was the one who asked, and it's not like he was here to witness Page's miraculous recovery.

Before Barnes could check-in, Sumner's voice crackled over his radio. _'All teams fall back to the caves. I repeat, fall back.'_

At the same time O'Neill's voice came over Stanson and Reynolds' radios; _'Well, the good news is we found the goa'uld.'_ He huffed, and sounds of a fire-fight could be heard in the background.

'And the bad?' Reynolds asked, though his team were already moving into combat positions.

_'It's a twofer; we just lost the gate, and they're heading straight for you.'_

**END PART ONE.**


End file.
